


until the end of time, i’m gonna stay right here. (by your side.)

by angeleddie



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Comfort, First Kiss, Fluff, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Men Crying, Separation Anxiety, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, fuck it! let jaskier cry!, literally this is so sweet please go visit ur dentist afterwards, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:46:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23707849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angeleddie/pseuds/angeleddie
Summary: And though Geralt has known Jaskier for a long, long time; he’s never heard his bard sound so shaky. Sound so deflated, like every ounce of his usual bubbly self had been stripped bare from his very existence.He’s heard Jaskier when he first wakes in the morning, voice raspy with sleep, sounding delightful.Heard when he was overwhelmed with happiness, the pitch of his voice going up ever so slightly - which Geralt definitely did not find absolutely lovely.But he’s never heard it like this.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 20
Kudos: 394





	until the end of time, i’m gonna stay right here. (by your side.)

**Author's Note:**

> all & any mistakes are mine, pls lmk if there’s any!
> 
> i wrote this over the span of like.... a month or so? and i still don’t like it fully, so if you’d like to let me know ur thoughts, don’t hesitate!!! <3
> 
> i love the witcher netflix series srsly it’s... chef kiss. i know geraskier won’t be canon but a gay can dream ;—;
> 
> also im SOOO sorry for any mistakes, i wrote this on mobile which is already a challenge itself, but i also dozed off a few times while writing because it was so late, so there might be a typo or two (or 100) in here that i am so sorry for. 
> 
> but, i know what you’re wondering, “if u hate it so much why are you posting it?” 
> 
> 1) i haven’t posted in awhile because of my mental state, and i wanted to push myself to write something, no matter what i write i will never truly think it’s good no matter how hard i try.
> 
> 2) despite my disappointment in this work, others may find enjoyment and beauty in it where i cannot, therefore i’d like to see how others feel about this. i also just wanted to get something out there to prove to myself that i’m more than my depression. 
> 
> anyhoot, enjoy!!!!! <3

“Must you go?” Jaskier asks, breaking the silence that once filled their surroundings. 

Geralt turns to him, cocking an eyebrow. 

“What?”

Jaskier huffs, sounding a little defeated, and Geralt can practically _taste_ the worry that soaks Jaskier’s bones, bitter and sharp. 

“Tomorrow,” Jaskier continues, “You’re going to deal with.. whatever that contract entails..”

Jaskier looks towards Geralt, blue meeting gold, his eyes holding something like sadness - but not quite. 

Something like _grief_ , though he has nothing to grieve. It’s shaped like sadness, broken into pieces and shattered about; yet wobbly like a worry. 

“I- I know it’s what you _do_..” Jaskier sighs, “..But I—I just,“ He stops himself, bringing a halt to his words, as if they’d gotten stuck inside his throat. 

Geralt tilts his head slightly, curious, maybe even the littlest amount concerned. 

“You?..” Geralt tempts him to finish his sentence, though he doesn’t quite know if it’s because he _cares_ , or because he simply lacks the information. 

That’s something he hasn’t quite figured out yet. Geralt still treats his feelings for Jaskier as if he were walking on thin ice, wary and hesitant. 

It’s quiet for a long moment. 

Only the sound of tree branches swaying in the wind, leaves rattling and shaking, adding an ambiance that’s calmer than Geralt expected. 

Like a song, the wind hums a gentle melody, and the trees provide the vocals, blending together effortlessly. 

It’s warm, not only from the fire crackling before them, but the air is balmy. A gentle breeze noisily shakes the trees and happily swims through the patches of grass. 

And Geralt, for the first time in a long time, finds the silence deafening - unbearable. Feels as if it’s too dragged out, allowing it to be filled with thoughts and doubts that weren’t there to begin with. 

“Jaskier..” Geralt speaks, a low rumble from his chest - as if he’s reminding Jaskier to talk. 

“I don’t _want_ you to go.” Jaskier finally says, eyes darting away from Geralt’s own, instead looking to the dirt beneath his feet. 

_There it is._

Geralt closely watches as Jaskier’s body tenses, _frigid_ , as if he were afraid of something. He knows Jaskier isn’t afraid of _him_ \- though it took years for Geralt to fully accept and understand that it’s just one of Jaskier’s _many_ qualities. 

And though Geralt has known Jaskier for a long, _long_ time; he’s never heard his bard sound so _shaky_. Sound so deflated, like every ounce of his usual bubbly self had been stripped bare from his very existence. 

He’s heard Jaskier when he first wakes in the morning, voice raspy with sleep, sounding delightful. 

Heard when he was overwhelmed with happiness, the pitch of his voice going up ever so slightly - which Geralt definitely did _not_ find absolutely lovely.

And he’s heard countless times where Jaskier is just on the verge of sleep, voice tending to drop in octave, just a tad bit on the deeper side, and his words begin to slur with tiredness. 

And those times bring an unnamed, _yet well-known_ , feeling to Geralt’s chest. Like flowers blooming within it, long stems that wrap around his ribs, and petals that line his heart. 

Warm and fresh, it’s a feeling that will never _not_ feel brand new, fresh out of the oven and making Geralt feel just the _slightest bit_ human for a moment.

But he’s never heard it like _this_. 

Broken and wobbly, uncertainty wrapped around every word. It’s vulnerable on a whole new level, leaving Geralt a bit shaken. 

And instead of that garden blooming inside his chest, now grows something grim. 

Cold and unsettling, like taking first steps into a graveyard, melancholy, sending dreadful chills down your spine. 

“I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.” Jaskier says suddenly after a beat of too long silence, his tone nothing more than a hushed whisper as he sniffles. 

_Sniffles?_

Geralt’s eyes fall to where a damp spot presents itself atop Jaskier’s colorful sleeve, desaturating the brightness of it. 

_Oh fuck. Oh Gods. Fuck, fuck, Jaskier is crying._

“Jask..” Geralt mumbles, and it sounds sympathetic, at-least he hopes it does. 

He’s never been good with words. Jaskier knows this better than anyone, he supposes. 

And yet, Jaskier’s always understood that. He’s always allowed Geralt to show his affection and care in his own ways, never protesting, always appreciating instead. 

Tiny things like that have helped Geralt break through his shell with Jaskier. Broke down many boundaries, allowed Jaskier into his every emotion, every thought or worry, like an ancient kingdom reopening the gates. 

A long awaited moment for Jaskier, but a moment of nauseating vulnerability for Geralt. 

Yet, Jaskier didn’t run. He didn’t try to hide away from Geralt. Instead he tempted for _more_ , _more_ , _more_. He’d draw full stories out of Geralt in a span of mere seconds, simply because he _wanted_ to. 

So in a moment like this, a moment of pure vulnerability, unadulterated emotion overtaking Jaskier’s everything; the _least_ Geralt can supply is comfort with his words, his actions. 

Jaskier’s body quivers as he lets out a sob. 

“I’m sorry,” He repeats, sounding breathless, like his lungs are failing to supply enough air, “Geralt, I’m sorry, I—“ 

_What is he apologizing for?_

Geralt leans forward, attempting to meet Jaskier’s eyes, which are filled with tears, eyes red and cheeks glistening - Geralt finds out he _hates_ seeing Jaskier cry. 

“What are you sorry for?” Geralt asks, no actual explanation _truly_ needed. Yet he asks, because he knows it’s what Jaskier would do. 

What he would say if the roles were reversed. 

Jaskier shakes his head, his hands moving to grip at the hairs on the nape of his neck, fingernails digging into the skin. 

Geralt’s hands itch to stop him, to prevent blunt nails ripping and tearing delicate skin. 

He doesn't. Instead lets it run its course. 

“I’m being selfish! I- I’m trying to keep you for myself when others _need_ you!” Jaskier lashes out, yelling louder than Geralt would like, but he doesn’t fret. 

Instead he keeps his eyes on Jaskier, watching every little movement he makes. Lets whatever is happening simply just.. _happen_. 

“I- I can’t just keep you away from contracts because I worry! That’s — _horrible_ of me, right? I shouldn’t _try_ to - to stop you from helping people who deserve it just because I—“

Jaskier’s hands ball into fists, frustration running thick through him, his hands shaking vigorously like a man gone mad. 

And he only gets louder, each rushed word that leaves his mouth fills the air surrounding him with _more_ and _more_ bittersweet aromas. 

They’re sour, like rotten fruit. But there’s a hint of something balmy, something _undeniably_ sugary-sweet, like a sunny day, or freshly blossomed tulips.

Geralt isn’t sure how to respond to them, but he knows not to ignore them. 

At the same time, it makes Geralt hyperaware of how much Jaskier truly _cares_. And it’s achingly tender, the way he doesn’t shy away from showing Geralt how much he _fucking cares._

Jaskier doesn’t care who sees or who hears, he’ll shout how fond of Geralt he is without an ounce of hesitation. 

He’s never backed down from showing Geralt affection. Never shied away from treating Geralt as if he was no different from anyone else. 

And even though Jaskier is small, he’s never really hesitated to fight. Never unwilling to raise his voice at those who whisper insults about Geralt under their breath. 

It leaves Jaskier with nasty bruises and perhaps a broken rib or two, maybe a bloody nose - but he doesn’t let any of that stop him. 

Even when Geralt tells him to _stop_ , that _it’s okay_ , Jaskier continuously tells him it’s not, that Geralt doesn’t deserve such ‘ _inhumane’_ treatment.

Without any doubt in his mind, Geralt is _human_ to Jaskier. 

In his own, special way, Jaskier is brave. 

So, Geralt finds himself trying to match Jaskier’s special braveness. 

He moves to crouch in the dirt, placing his hands on Jaskier’s knees and catching his gaze. 

“Hush, Jask.” Geralt says, allowing some bit of his heart to shine onto the words he speaks. Allows it to drizzle his words in a nectar of affection, accompanied by a smooth calmness.

Jaskier looks taken aback, his eyes dropping to where Geralt’s large palm covers his knee. 

But, his shoulders lax, Geralt’s touch seeming to calm him a bit. 

Each of them are quiet for a moment, only the sound of Jaskier’s ragged breaths and Geralt's controlled own mixing between them. 

Geralt watches how Jaskier’s face changes. How his eyes seem to shine at the touch, how his mouth grows into a small smile. 

The same smile that Geralt has had the honor of seeing so many times over the decades. The smile that Geralt has grown to _love_ so dearly. 

“Take a deep breath.” Geralt suggests, giving Jaskier’s knee a squeeze, hoping it conveys his message of intimacy. 

Jaskier doesn’t quite follow what he suggests, instead seeming to put up an act of stubbornness. 

“..For _me_. Please.” Geralt adds, softening his eyes. 

It’s a bit cheesy, and not something Geralt would typically say, but he finds himself considering it appropriate in this moment. 

Nonetheless, Jaskier ends up taking a deep breath. Geralt can hear the shakiness of his breathing, but it’s evened out significantly. 

“Better?” Geralt asks. 

Jaskier nods, it’s a bit childish, his movements, and he still refuses to meet Geralt’s eyes. 

“If it troubles you so much,” Geralt begins, “I won’t go.” 

Jaskier meets his eyes, finally, looking guilty, hands moving to gesture in the air quite oddly, “No! Geralt, I didn’t mean for you to—“ 

Geralt hums, “Don’t try to change my mind.” 

It comes out more sarcastic, more teasing, than Geralt intended. But Jaskier smiles wider at the words, therefore he leaves them as they are. 

Jaskier laughs lightly, and Geralt finds himself smiling at the sound. It brings a common wave of comfort to his veins. 

Everything about Jaskier seems to make all the bones in Geralt’s body sparkle and shimmer with contentment. Every aspect of Jaskier’s personality has housed itself within Geralt’s heart. 

It’s an unorthodox concept for Geralt, that he can be so... happy. That he can be this _close_ to a person. That someone could grow to know Geralt so well and _not_ fear him. 

Maybe Geralt owes Jaskier this _one_ thing. Something so small as simply _staying_ by Jaskier’s side for however long he needs. 

“I don’t.. mind.” Geralt speaks up. 

“What?” 

Geralt sighs, “Staying.” 

_Why is talking so fucking hard?_

“It’s _fine_ , Geralt. They need you.” Jaskier replies, expression going soft, but his tone implies something else. 

Geralt shakes his head, “ _Julian_..” 

Jaskier’s eyebrows shoot up in a jolt, mouth falling open just slightly as he stares at Geralt. He looks surprised, but in a good way, I suppose. 

It’s the same expression he wears when Geralt presents him with a small gift, such as a trinket, or a new set of strings for his lute. 

Funny looking, but his teeth poke out just the slightest, hinting at a smile, but still on the ‘ _oh, i didn’t expect this_ ’ side of expressions. 

Geralt doesn’t use his real name often. He doesn’t quite know when the appropriate time is for it. And though Geralt _loves_ to call him ‘ _Julian_ ’, he finds himself never actually letting it leave his tongue. 

He mostly sticks to calling Jaskier... _Jaskier_. Or bard, or Dandelion, and on special occasion; Songbird. 

Jaskier _especially_ likes when Geralt calls him Songbird. Geralt can practically sense the way it makes him feel. 

“I want to stay with you.” Geralt adds, a hand drifting from Jaskier’s knee to cup his cheek instead, thumb swiping over the bone.

It’s a simple gesture, showing fondness in ways Geralt's not sure he fully understands, but he rather likes the affect it has on Jaskier. 

He also quite enjoys the way Jaskier’s skin feels beneath his fingertips. Soft and smooth, as if Jaskier doesn’t bother growing old. 

Jaskier then smiles, bringing his own hand to cover Geralt’s, leaning into the touch like a cat desperate for attention. It makes Geralt’s heart feel.. _tingly_.

”Geralt, I—“ Jaskier starts, but finds himself at a lack for words, which is definitely new. 

He doesn’t get the chance to finish his lack-of sentence, because Geralt leans up and captures Jaskier’s lips with his own - _Completely on a whim, may I add_.

Geralt isn’t the type to make a first move like this - not at all. But he knows Jaskier like the blade of his sword, and he know’s Jaskier would never dare to advance pass their.. ‘ _platonic’_ relationship. 

So, Geralt takes matters into his own hands.

Jaskier makes a startled noise that’s muffled between their mouths, but slowly begins to relax, arms moving to wrap around Geralt’s broad shoulders, dragging him closer. 

He spreads his thighs, allowing Geralt to press his chest against Jaskier’s own, feeling his heartbeat wildly against the flesh there. 

Despite the tension between them, the kiss is all but frantic or desperate. It’s gentle, lips moving like the oceans waves on a calm day. 

Geralt’s a little surprised by that, how Jaskier isn’t seeking out a lustful touch, instead settling - and even insisting upon - a gentle touch, as if Geralt were fragile. 

He welcomes it warmly, welcomes it with open arms, getting drunk on the way Jaskier’s lips taste, the way they move against his own. 

Eventually though, Jaskier pulls back, panting. 

“ _Wow_..” Jaskier laughs in disbelief, a wide smile framed on his face. 

Geralt hums, pressing their foreheads together with a smile, feeling the heat radiating off of Jaskier’s now relieved body. 

“I’ll stay as long as you want, _Songbird_.” 

**Author's Note:**

> this whole thing is a MESS.. it’s all over the place i’m so sorry :|


End file.
